Hamlet was dead, the play was done, but it seemed to me it needed a longer run. So, back from the dead, came the murdered Dane. Back from the dead, alive and quite sane, to find pesky Fortinbras still on the loose determined to cook Hamlet's now living goose.
There is only one who can save him, you can bet upon that.
The one, the only, The Cat in the Hat.
He'll stand by Hamlet's side against the Norwegian Prince.
Wield a sword with the best and never once wince.
Poor Hamlet confused by his resurrection,
wandered off alone in an unknown direction.
Again contemplating "To be or not"
he heard a voice say: "That's a lot of rot!"
Standing before him was a long lanky cat,
finely dressed and wearing a tall striped hat.
"Better to be, than not to be" said the feline.
"Death may be noble, but life is divine.
Even one such as I, who has nine lives as I do,
takes not one for granted, death's no lover to woo.
Think of poor Ophelia, cold in her grave.
Think of yourself, who kind fiction did save.
Murder you did and was done to you.
So, you have much to think on and much to rue.
But it's better to be at the beginning of your act.
That is no fiction, it is a cold hard fact."
Hamlet was taken with his new feline friend.
There's much more to tell, but for now, this is the end.